Finish the Western III: A Murder in the Gulch

Cafe Society
1

Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear…

Anderson’s Gulch has changed a bit in the past few years. Mining slacked up due to the uranium deposit being a fluke but the phosphate industry is still going strong. Crews of surveyors have been periodically going out to scout where the main uranium deposit might be.

Zeke slowly settled in to his sheriffing duties while he trained an apprentice blacksmith, a teenager named Daniel Dawson. Danny isn’t an impressive figure like is mentor but knows how to swing a hammer, and Sally Ann Charging Bear took a liking to him immediately when he came down from Solace. Danny still goes to school during the day, which gives Zeke time to get to know Deputies David and Alan McReynolds, and get used to being sheriff.

The Darkhorse caught fire while being remodelled; it’s suspected that a workman accidentally knocked over an oil lamp. Much of the interior ended up being gutted but the outside walls had been saved. The McLeods, with the help of Bertha Beauregard, reclaimed the hulk and rechristened it the Phoenix Inn and it’s become a big attraction in the area. Turns out Ian was a regular 19th Century Ed Sullivan, booking great stage acts on their way West.

The re-christened Darkhorse Inn isn’t the only chage to the commercial landscape. Bertha sold her restaurant to the McReynolds boys, whose wives run the place. This enabled her to get in with the McLeods. Max McReynolds, the boys’ uncle, came along from Denver and re-opened the tannery. A fellow named Stan Goldstone opened a dry goods store, competing with the Hastings and tentions between the parties have been running high.

It had been a big week for Anderson’s Gulch. Sally just turned 16 yesterday and today marks the grand opening of the new courthouse. Ian pulled some strings and hired a marching band and a Wild West show for the event! Townsfolk delighted at the trick riding; Belle and Sally were especially interested in the dancing horses. In the shooting competitions, Zeke tied with the show’s sharpshooter in the rifle competition but Slim surprised everyone by winning the pistol competition!

Everything was running smoothly until it came time for the sharpshooter, May Fenno, to do a solo act. She did the usual tricks, from snuffing candles to plugging the center of an ace of spaces with her back turned and holding a mirror. Just before her finale, she picked up a crossbow and demonstrated how it works. Most folks in attendance had never seen one before. May took aim at the edge of a playing card and fired. And missed! May held up her crossbow, examining it. I missed? I never miss! A few moments of stunned silence was punctuated with a scream. It was Martha Hastings; her husband was lying next to her, a crossbow bolt in his chest. He was bleeding profusely but still alive. “Doc McCaulley, get over here!” yelled Slim, who had been seated behind the shopkeepers. May and Zeke ran up from the center of the ring, she carrying her crossbow and he still with the cigarette in his mouth. “I think somebody tampered with my weapon!” declared the sharpshooter.

2

Doc ran over to the wounded shopkeeper and immediately tore the clothing away from the wound. “Get my bag, would you, Zeke?” He said as he examined the damage the bolt had done. “It’s behind the door of my…”

“I know where you keep it,” interrupted Zeke and dashed off, slicing through the gathering crowd like a canoe through a still lake.

“Give me some room!” shouted Doc. Mr Hastings coughed and a frothy pink foam spilled out of his mouth.

3

A short, nervous man pushed his way forward through the crowd of people around the body of Pa Hastings. It was Sam Hawkins, who was the owner, sales manager, editor, and the sole reporter of the town’s newspaper, the Jackson County Democrat.

“Doc, how is he? Is he dead?”

Doc McCaulley looked up. “He’s not dead yet, you vulture, but he will be if you don’t let me work. Go find someone else to annoy, Hawkins!”

With a self-depricating smile, Sam jotted down a note in the notebook he always carried, and pushed his way over to May Fenno, saying to the pale-faced woman.

“Miss Fenno, can you tell me what happened here? That looks like your crossbow bolt sticking out of Hasting’s chest, there.”

May had tears in her eyes as she answered, “I don’t know! I’ve been doing this for ten years, and I haven’t missed for nine, especially not a shot this easy! I just don’t know what happened!”

Sam nodded and wrote in his notebook.

4

Zeke raced back in with the doctor’s bag, his long strides eating up turf. Catching May’s statement to the press, he checked the bag to make sure it was secure then called out, “Slim! Catch!” and made a perfect toss into the stands. Then he headed toward the sharpshooter and the reporter. “Didn’t you say something about your crossbow? You think someone messed with it?” A tearful May nodded. “I’d better have someone examine that.” He scanned the crowd for the Charging Bear clan and got Charlie’s attention while Caroline ushered their children away from the commotion. Much to Sally’s protest.

Meanwhile, up in Solace, an old medicine man had been sitting bolt upright. With the thought someone needs me! running through his head, Mose Doubletree shot up and headed for his horse.

5

There was one family that was missing the commotion in town. Jesse and Belle Parker were missing some of the celebration in Anderson’s Gulch, as Belle was still recovering from the birth of the Parker’s second child. Jesse might have gone in for the show, but one of their breeding mares had slipped out of her corral, and Jesse was out riding, searching for her.

Jesse had managed to do some of the kitchen work before riding off, so Belle was having a sit-down, looking through some clothes that needed mending. Little George was in his cradle, sleeping in the next room, although how he managed that, with his “big sister” Tessie making so much noise as she played, Belle had no idea. She sure could use some more sleep herself, although she was feeling better now. She sighed, once again wondering what if would be like if both babies had lived. George had been tiny and wrinkled, like a little red prune, while his twin brother had looked just fine. But within and hour of his birth he’d started turning blue, and gasping for breath, dying a few hours later. Doctor McCaulley told the distraught parents there was nothing they could have done, it was probably the scarlet fever Belle had caught while pregnant that had something to do with it.

“Momma, Momma, Georgie wake up!” shrieked the energetic toddler, running up to her mother as fast as her chubby legs could carry her. Sure enough she heard the infant beginning his “I’m hungry!” cry in the next room. Belle put down the mending and got to her feet. As she turned to take care of George she glanced out the window of the front room and saw three riders, coming from the direction of town. They were riding fast, but slowed down, almost stopping, as they passed the Parker place. All three seemed to be looking in the direction of the house, but were too far away to identify. Then they took off again. Belle shrugged her shoulders and went to feed George.

6

As Belle fed George his oatmeal, she thought about how much she missed the celebration in town. “I so wanted to see the dancing horses”, Belle sighed. She had been so close to seeing them. If only she hadn’t gotten faint just so shortly before they had come on. Even though George had been born several months ago, it had been a hard birth, and Belle had never fully recovered. Doc McCaulley had said that some fatigue was normal for a woman who had just given birth, but that it didn’t normally last so long.

Yet, for the past few months, Belle had suffered headaches, tiredness, and shortness of breath. Maybe the scarlet fever had caused it. She just didn’t know. Doc had said not to exert herself, but she had been so excited to see those horses that, earlier that morning, she didn’t care what the doctor had said. She knew Jesse would disapprove of her going into town, but she didn’t care about that either! He was away trying to round up an escaped horse, and tt just looked so fun!

Of course, she paid for it, but wasn’t it so nice of Deputy McReynolds to give her a ride home when she swooned, she thought.

7

Jesse neatly dropped the lasso around Star’s neck and yanked it tight. She neighed in protest, but good old Goliath stood his ground, and Star reluctantly subsided. A cursory examination told Jesse that Star had met with no harm during her escape, and he made a mental note to have Daniel look at the gate hinges. Apparently the old rope ones weren’t going to cut it anymore.

As he turned toward home, his ears picked up the sound of hooves. Jesse frowned as he saw three riders galloping toward him.

“They’re in an awful hurry,” he commented to Goliath, patting his rifle in its saddle holster, making sure it was in easy reach should the strangers be less than friendly.

The three stopped in front of Jesse, and to his alarm, quicky surrounded him. He saw a glint of a sheriff’s star on one of the leather vests, but did not recognize the man.

“Jesse Parker?”

“I am. Who are you?”

“Sheriff MacTavish, from Solace. You are under arrest.”

8

“Solace? Arrest? What fer?”

MacTavish was about to speak when a fourth rider came into view, approaching from the north and riding hell-for-leather. As his steed slid to a stop, still quite a distance away from the foursome, the rider put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle, making sure he had everyone’s attention. Then he shook his head plainly, after which he took off for town almost as fast as before. Mose had more important business to attend at the moment.

9

A skinny, pimply faced teenaged boy stares fretfully at the sign on the door he is about to knock on, announcing to the person inside the fifth floor corner office that he has something to give him. The pimply faced teenager had had to do this before, which is why he stared fretfully at the sign. For the occupant of that top floor office never failed to make the boy feel ugly and worthless.

“I can hear your breathing, Pug,” came a voice from within the office, slightly muffled by the heavy ash door. “Do you have something for me or are you just lonely for a man’s touch again?”

Flustered, and with a cracking voice, the boy stammers, “N-n-no! I m-mean yes. Yes sir. I have something for you. From the wire room.”

“Then bring it in here, you poof!”

Groaning under his breath, the boy opens the door and enters. The room is dimly lit by an oil lamp on the massive, dark desk, which the boy thought was quite odd, considering that this corner, top floor office had four tall windows on each of the outside two walls. The eight windows were sealed from daylight by black tar coloured coarse weave paper. Barely noticeable were about two score framed newspaper stories on the other two walls, and a large stuffed black bear in the darkest corner between the two inner walls. He had seen the framed stories when he and another errand boy had snuck in one cold Winter day that the office holder had decided not to show up. Tho merely an errand boy for the editor, he was quite literate and had been fascinated by the life of sport and travel that the office holder had once had.

Being careful not to trip on the Persian rug in front of the desk, he handed over the folded brown paper.

The man behind the desk snatched it out of the boy’s hand and leaned in close to the oil lamp to read the message.

“Maybe you could see it better if I open up one of these windows,” the boy offered as he moved towards the nearest one.

“Pug, my boy,” answered the man at the desk, “Touch one of my god damned windows and I’ll sell you to the Sultan.”

His face reddened both at the blasphemous cursing and at the memory of a night he would rather forget. The Sultan, an old friend of the man behind the desk, apparently liked the company of young boys. Though nothing had actually happened, the boy had been completely humiliated by the foppish reputation that had been spread around the newspaper after that. He had finally lived it down to almost everyone, except for the man in this dark, large office.

“Now, get out of here!” the man said as he threw his snuffed cigar at him.

The boy scampered out of the office and drew the heavy door shut very fast, so that the slam virtually shook the walls. As he looked at the sign on the door, he cursed the day that Samuel Nichols, Managing Editor, Sports & Leisure had ever come to the San Francisco offices of the Wild West Weekly, then bolted for the stairwell.

Rereading the hand written note, Samuel Nichols cursed the day he had ever met May Fenno. The note simply read: “Your friend May Fenno seems to be back in business. She’s part of a wild west show that left St Louis about a month ago. The show is next scheduled for a nothing little town named Anderson Gulch. Thought you might like to know. Cliff”

(The WWW’s editor, Cliff Hapernam had connections everywhere, and was always getting wires and express mails from all over the American West. Knowing the former history of Samuel and May, he couldn’t resist stirring an old flame. Maybe he would get a good story of it.)

Getting up from behind the desk, Samuel limped painfully to the door, where he donned his hat and coat and picked up his walking cane. He hated using that cane, but he had to. Ever since Miss May Fenno had ‘accidently’ shot him just below the knee.

Walking out the building’s front door some minutes later, Samuel Nichols was well on his way to friendly little town of Anderson’s Gulch.

10

Mr. Hastings was breathing in shallow gasps now, as Dr. McCaulley gently tried to examine him. His jaw worked back and forth as he tried to speak. “Want…tell” he finally managed to gasp. The doctor tried to shush him but he seemed to be gathering himself for another effort to speak. His hand scrabbled for those of his wife’s, and clutched them around. “Sorry” he breathed. With tears streaming down her face, Mrs. Hastings looked at her dying husband “Honey, you didn’t do anything to say sorry for” she said.

Suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head and he made several deeper gasps for breath, before relaxing back, with a slight smile on his face. “Damnation!” muttered Doc under his breath. The new widow began weeping quietly. She was echoed by May Fenno. “I didn’t mean to!” she sobbed, agonized by her role in this tragedy.

11

Sheriff MacTavish looked at his deputies in confusion, then turned to Jesse. “You’ll come with me at once.”

Jesse shifted in the saddle. “I have a breeding mare here. I have a wife with two small children at home. I will return my horses to my ranch, then I will accompany you.”

MacTavish frowned. “I don’t have time for this,” he began, but, as all frontiersmen, he was sensitive to the value of expensive horseflesh.

Jesse cocked an eyebrow. “Are my horses under arrest too?”

MacTavish laughed reluctantly. “You have a point. I will take this, though,” he said, pulling Jesse’s rifle from its holster. “Let’s go.”

Star had not wandered far from home, so in about half an hour Jesse was sliding off Goliath and herding both horses into the corral. Nodding to MacTavish, he entered his house.

Belle turned from the stove, a tired smile on her face. Tessie was happily banging spoons on the floor, while George contemplated the sunbeams streaming through the windows.

“Did you find Star?” Belle asked.

“Yes. Belle, this is Sheriff MacTavish from Solace. I need to go with him for a bit. Take the kids over to C&C.” Belle froze. C&C was their code for Charley and Caroline’s ranch, and the idiom had started last winter, when the blizzard had buried their house for nearly a week. It was a code for danger and escape.

Belle nodded and pulled the stew off the hot stove. Jesse kissed her and turned to MacTavish.

“Let’s get this sorted out, man,” he said, closing the door behind him.

12

Everyone in the remaning crowd looked toward the sound of hoofbeats. Someone was riding very fast toward the commotion, Zeke and Charlie recognized who it was before anyone else. Mose slowed his steed down and rode up to his friends, glanced over toward the Hastings and frowned. Then he directed attention to Zeke and Charlie. “Let me see that weapon.”

13

Zeke, who had taken the crossbow from May, handling it carefully so as not to disturb any signs of tampering, held onto the weapon.
“Let’s go to my office, Mose. You can look it over there.” He turned his head. “Doc, I need that arrow. It won’t hurt nothin’ to take it out of him now, will it?”
“Nope. Sorry, Martha,” he said to the widow as he grasped the shaft protruding from the dead man and jerked it out of his chest. The doctor turned and handed the bloody arrow to Zeke. Martha started sobbing again.
Zeke noticed a tall, skinny man in a dark suit walk up to the group. Martha’s sobs grew louder.
“Silas,” he said, “You’re just in time. Doc, have a couple of the boys here take the body over to the undertaker’s office.” Zeke scanned the crowd and pointed back toward the center of town with the arrow. “The rest of y’all might as well go on home, the show’s over.” The crowd started to disperse and Silas faced the widow and took off his hat.
“Martha, I’m real sorry for your loss, Hastings was a good man. Would you like to make the final arrangements now or later?”
Martha choked back the tears to respond. “We…I’ll make them now,” she said and took Silas’ elbow and accompanied him to his office as two men followed behind with the body. The doc brought up the rear.
Zeke looked at Charlie and Mose and said, "Well, let’s go to my office and look at this crossbow.

14

With two children, it wasn’t easy for Belle to get things together, in preparation to leave for the Charging Bear spread. After gathering clothes, diapers, assorted toys and so forth, she had to get out and rig up the small, older one-horse carriage that Jesse had got as payment for legal aid work he’d done the previous year. “Those law books sure are paying off” Belle thought. Otherwise she would have had to rig up the two-horse wagon, and she didn’t think she had it in her just now. But within two hours of Jesse leaving Belle and the children were on their way.

“At least it isn’t winter now” Belle mused, as she geed the horse along. By now it was late afternoon, not too hot, and the land looked good, with wild roses, Indian paintbrush, and brown-eyed Susans scattered along the drive. Nevertheless she was glad to come in sight of the Charging Bear ranch, and was grateful to see Caroline and Sally come out to meet her, glad they were back from town.

“Girl, are you crazy?” scolded Caroline. “What in Heaven’s name possessed you to come out again, after this morning? Here, give me George, Sally, you get Tessie, and take him in, then come back and help Belle down.” As Belle made to lift down some of their gear Caroline started up again. “Don’t you touch a thing, missy! I’ve got two strong arms and so does Sally. All you need is a real rest, is what I’m thinkin’!” Her sharp tone belied the warmth she gave off, and Belle was grateful. Never having had much mothering herself, it felt nice to be on the recieving end for once. She was finally hustled into the house and into a rocking chair, without ever having had to lift a finger. Her Tessie and Caroline’s Moses were already charging around together, getting into who knows what. The two youngsters really enjoyed each other’s company, and what one didn’t think of the other would, whenever they were together. George was in Moses’ cradle, and Belle dozed for a few minutes, until Sally brought her a cup of hot tea.

“Thanks, Sally” and she sipped gratefully. Sally gave Belle a worried smile and left. Belle was still something of an idol to her.

“Now,” said Caroline, as she bustled up and sat down across from Belle. “I want to know what’s so all fired important to bring you out like this.” The tale was quickly told and Caroline’s face creased in thought. “I hope Charlie hears about this and brings some news. But after all the hullabaloo in town …oh, that’s right, you left before…” and she was off, telling about the tragic murder of Mr. Hastings. “…and Sally’s real worried for her friend Jenny Hastings, now that her pa is dead” Caroline finished. Then, seeing Belle’s eyes start to droop again she stood up and let Belle slide into sleep. Just then Caroline saw Charlie come riding up, and went out to meet him.

15

Suddenly, everyone was run over by a truck.

THE END.

16

Moderator intervenes: Snooooopy, that’s really pretty much pissing in the pool. If you’re not interested in this thread, don’t participate. If you want to participate, don’t be a jerk and spoil the fun that others are having.

I suggest the rest of you ignore Snooooopy’s inanity and continue having fun.

17

Zeke dragged a couple of caneback chairs over to the desk, and poured the sobbing May a cup of old but strong coffee. Charley has gone to his ranch to make arrangements for Mose to bunk down while he was in town.

After a few minutes May calmed down, although she was still sniffling. Mose was going over the crossbow inch by inch while Zeke made small talk with May.

Yes, May had been doing her sharpshooting act for about four years now. She’d been handling a gun ever since she was old enough to hold one, and had picked up the crossbow after her family became friendly with a half-Souix trader. No, she didn’t know where Prairie Dexter was.

“Well, it’s his show, isn’t it?” Zeke asked.

May shrugged. “I’m the last act. If you have a saloon in town he’s probably there. For the last six months I’ve been shutting down the show. He’s too drunk by the end of the local contests to help.”

Zeke nodded, and made a note to visit the Tumbleweed and the Darkhorse.

“Missus Fenno? Can you look at this for me?” Mose asked. May walked over to the table where the crossbow was laid.

“What does this look like to you?” he asked, pointing to a small nick right below the grip. May frowned, touching it lightly with her finger.

“That wasn’t there last night. I oil this bow every night, and I know every inch of it.”

“Is that enough of a nick to throw off your aim?”

May picked up the bow and balanced it on the palm of her hand. Imperceptibly the bow tilted to the right.

“How did that happen?” she asked.

18

“Somebody put it there,” said Mose.

The deputies McReynolds came in in time to hear Zeke say, “Somebody best go find that Goldstone fella.”

“Yeah,” said Al McReynolds, “he’d been heard arguing with the Hastings several times.”

“Didn’t seem very concerend with their current predicament,” added Dave. Then the deputies flipped a coin to see which one would have that detail.

19

Caroline kissed Charley good bye as he rode back to town. What with Belle and the babies and now Big Mose (to differentiate him from her son, Little Mose) visiting quarters would be cramped for a bit.

Belle jerked awake in her chair as George let out a squall. Tessie, ever the observant big sister, promptly knocked Mose over as she pushed past him to rush to her mother. Belle blearily shook her head as Tessie began pounding on her mother’s knee. “Baby cry, Mama, baby cry!”

Suddenly, Belle burst into tears. Caroline, returning from Sally’s room, where she had been changing the bedsheets, took in the screaming baby, the hollering toddlers, and her weeping friend. She scooped up Mose as he bore down on Tessie, bent on revenge for the abrupt interruption of their playtime, and handed him to Sally, who was headed out to feed the chickens.

“Take those two rascals outside,” she admonished, pulling Tessie away from her mother. “Have them pull weeds or eat worms. Anything to keep them occupied.” Sally giggled and herded her charges outside.

Caroline picked up George, smiled wryly as she felt his wet bottom, and efficiently changed him. Then she scooped up a bowl of hominy and set it aside to cool. George, temporarily soothed with a clean diaper, shoved his fist in his mouth and began chewing on it.

Belle was wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Caroline,” she sniffled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. After Tessie was born, I bounced right back. I even delivered Star’s foal the next day! But after Georgie and David,” fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as she mentioned her dead baby’s name, “I’m so tired. I get so irritated, and I know Tessie’s only trying to help, but sometimes I just want the throw them both in the creek and run away.”

Caroline nodded. “Jesse?”

“Oh, he helps, but he’s been trying to get some more law experience and run the ranch and the farm, and he’s exhausted too. I hate to ask him to do more.”

George began to whimper as he discovered he wasn’t getting nutrition from his fist, and Caroline handed him to Belle. “You hold him while I feed him. Have you talked to Doc MacCaulley about this?”

Belle stared at her friend. “Talk to him about what, being lazy?” She straightened her shoulders. “I just need to snap out of it. I mean, women have babies all the time.”

Caroline began feeding George the hominy, but she meant to talk to Charley and Jesse when they came home. Even Big Mose might know some Indian lore to help. She snuck a peek at her friend, and although she seemed fine now, a niggling doubt remained.

20

“Whoa! Whoa!” the stage coach driver yelled as he pulled back the reins hard. The horse team slowed up and then turned to the left, guided by the driver’s directions with the reins.

As the coach slowed to a full stop, Samuel Nichols opened the door and climbed out. Looking forward along the well rutted trail, he saw the reason for the sudden, panicked stop. The bridge over the gorge was gone. It looked as though someone had kicked out the middle of it, leaving both ends intact. In the early morning fog, it was difficult to make out the damage from here. He was glad that the driver had been able to see it in enough time. Though it wasn’t a wide bridge, the gorge was deep. In fact, it was deepest right where the damage was. They would’ve been in a mess of trouble, if not dead.

“What do you think happened?” he asked the driver.

“Doan right know, Mister,” he answered, standing up on his driving bench. “Looks right like mebbe a flood or sumtin done took out the footin. Damn lucky there was a break in the fog.”

“Yes,” agreed the suddenly curious passenger. “Tell me,” he continued, “How common is it to get a flash flood this time of year?”

The driver pursed his face in deep thought. “Come ta think of it, it ain’t right normal at all. Not at all.” Climbing down off his perch, he secured the horses and set the coach brake, then he strode on over to the bridge.

Carefully, he stepped onto the massive wood structure that was left over. He tried to make it move with a swaying motion of his body. It seemed solid. He jumped up and down several times, his boots making a loud thump on the wood planks each time he landed.

“Huh?” he mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean by ‘Huh?’” asked Mr. Nichols, tortuously making his own way to the edge of the road.

‘Wayall, I woulda thought anything that could take out the middle like that would juss make the whole damn thing weak and wobbly. Taint so, tho.”

Cautiously, Nichols made his way across the bride to the damaged area. Looking at the gap, he noticed something that made him both angry and fearful. “What do you make of this?” he asked the driver, pointing to the edge of the break in the bridge.

“Shee-it!” exclaimed the driver. “Dems SAW marks!”

“Yes,” offered Nichols, “Yes, they are. What’s the nearest other way across?”

“Through Injun land, bout a couple of hours detour.”

“Is it safe?”

“Taint been killed by no redskins yet.”

After taking a bit of time to relieve themselves and take a shot of whiskey each, they continued on to their destination. The detour through Indian land would put their arrival in town at well after dark.